


Running In Blind

by NihilNoviSubSole



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:14:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NihilNoviSubSole/pseuds/NihilNoviSubSole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exploring some major events of the game more in-depth from the minds of the characters involved. No smut. Pretty rad friendship, though.</p>
<p>When courier Rose stumbles into the Followers camp, Arcade never expects he'll be leaving with her and running headfirst into the ride of his life. Through challenges, both personal and external,  the new friends learn to trust one another--at least, to a point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1  
“Any crimes you have committed against the Legion are hereby forgiven,” drawled Vulpes Inculta. “Caesar will not extend this mercy a second time. We will be seeing you at Cottonwood Cove in very short order, I hope.”  
Arcade tried to remain discreet as he compulsively clenched his fists in his pockets, his nails, untrimmed from weeks away from the Followers camp, digging into his palms. He was not the one being addressed, of course—the Legion met him with a cold indifference on account of his relatively pacifistic nature, despite his position with the Followers. Rather, Vulpes Inculta was speaking to Rose, who stood with confidence at Arcade’s side, despite being secretly unnerved by the sudden appearance of the Legion spy. Arcade anxiously studied her face, awaiting her response. One wrong word and they could both be shot dead right there on the Strip.  
“Yes,” she answered quietly, “You’ll see us there. We will try to be prompt.”  
“See that you do,” commanded Vulpes Inculta. He turned on his heel and swiftly fled from view.  
Rose let out a long, slow breath that she didn’t know she’d been holding in, closing her eyes as she did so in an attempt to ground herself. She was vaguely aware of her friend’s comments on the ominous nature of the Legion spy’s visit, which denounced the Strip’s security systems and questioned House’s morals (which, to be fair, had always been questionable).  
Arcade and Rose’s friendship was largely founded on their mutual hatred for the Legion. Their shared interest in the common good, as well as their matched intellect, had made them fast friends following Rose’s arrival at the Old Mormon Fort, the site of the Followers’ Camp where Arcade had been stationed.   
Arcade recalled how Rose had stumbled into the Camp a couple of months earlier looking worse for wear. Her hair was caked with Mojave dust, her old Vault jumpsuit was blood-stained and torn, and she was reacting badly to a Nightstalker bite: her left leg dragged behind her, swollen, her jumpsuit rolled up to the knee.  
“Um,” she’d said as she approached Arcade, who was doing guard duty near the gate. Her eyes were unfocused, her movements ataxic. “I, uh…” She gestured at her worn-out body. “I could use some…uh…patching up.” She let out a feeble, tired laugh.  
Arcade grimaced. “Sorry, I’m just a researcher. Hang on a second. Dave, cover me for a minute. This young lady is in bad shape. I’m going to take her over to Julie.”  
“Thanks,” murmured Rose, before slipping out of consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

2  
When Rose had awakened, she was sprawled across a filthy mattress on the bottom bunk of a pre-war bed. The world, though out of focus, gradually grew louder around her as she regained awareness of her surroundings, remembering where she was. Instinctively, she groped for her glasses.  
“Might as well relax a minute,” came a vaguely familiar voice. “Julie has your glasses. You cracked them when you passed out, but she had some spare parts lying around to patch them up. “  
After a moment’s thought, Rose recognized the voice as the research doctor who had met her at the gate. She sat up. Her leg stung with antiseptic, but was no longer the bloody, swollen deadweight she had dragged two miles to the Followers camp from the Nightstalker-ridden caves to the West. 

Some asshole along the Long 15 had told her that the caves were full of much-needed medical supplies, as well as some food, caps, and a place to sleep. But a gang of Vipers had set up shop inside and, after fighting them off, their pet Nightstalkers had swarmed in around her, around 10 or 20 of them. She’d made it out alive—but barely. When she saw the Followers flag waving in the distance, she made her way there at half her normal pace, fighting back tears as the Nightstalker venom began to burn through her capillaries, slowly but surely reaching the muscle. Unfortunately, the flag wasn’t as close as the vast emptiness of the Mojave made it seem, and so, by the time she’d used the last of her strength to open the enormous wooden gate to the Camp and deliriously requested aid from the researcher who was standing guard, she was completely depleted.  
“How do you feel?” asked the researcher.  
Rose laughed bitterly. “Well, I’m blind, sore, a bit sick from the Med-X, and pretty much everything on my body is tingling with antiseptic—nonetheless, I’m grateful to be alive. Thanks for patching me up, Mister I’m-Just-A-Researcher.”  
“Be grateful for the leg,” he replied, “We almost lost it. Oh, and it wasn’t me who fixed you up. You can thank Julie Farkas for that when she comes back with your glasses. I’ve just been watching you to make sure you don’t go into cardiac arrest post-detox. That Nightstalker venom is a narcotic without any of the fun parts to make its use ‘recreational’, I’m afraid.”  
“Would you believe that that was one of my prevailing thoughts as I hauled my ass up here?” Rose mused, shaking her head with a faint smirk. “I was thinking, ‘man, I can feel this Nightstalker venom eating the fuck out of my leg. I know it’s a drug, and I’m thinking to myself, ‘If I’m gonna die out here in the wastes, can’t I at least hallucinate? You know, maybe see something a little less depressing? Like a pre-war waterpark or something like that. Something to ease the pain of losing a leg. Or, you know, the pain of dying at nineteen in a post-apocalyptic hellhole.”  
The researcher laughed. It was good to see someone with a sense of humor for once, Rose thought. Everyone was too damn serious these days.  
“Well, look who’s up!” exclaimed a female voice from the tent’s entrance. “And making plenty of conversation I see. Arcade, thanks for keeping an eye on her. Here are your glasses, Rose. Good as new. And—oh, shoot, hang on a second.” The woman, responding to a cry of “Julie!” from the other end of the camp, passed the glasses off to the man called Arcade and dashed off.  
Arcade handed Rose her glasses. “Here,” he said, “They’re nearly the same prescription as mine! I pity you for that. Must be a shame, to be blind as a mole rat at nineteen.”   
“It’s not so bad,” murmured Rose as she slipped her glasses on. The world’s reality hit her all at once in crystal clarity, making her head spin. She lay back down on the bed, closing her eyes.  
“Hey, hey, not so fast,” chastised Arcade, “You’re gonna need to take it easy for a little bit—though, we’re overcrowding quick so you probably won’t have as much time as you need. Give it another day before you continue on your great journey…or, whatever it is you’re doing. What are you doing? If you don’t mind my asking.”  
“It’s not that interesting,” Rose replied, her eyes still closed.  
“Really?” Arcade prodded—then, looking around surreptitiously, casually kicked the flap of the tent closed. “Because, Rose…” He dropped his voice to little more than a whisper, “I just don’t think people get bullets in their heads for getting the washing done.”


End file.
